


Smolder

by thebakkat



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebakkat/pseuds/thebakkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third day of Zant’s winter heat had rolled around, and the pair had established some semblance of a rhythm - in Ghirahim’s words, (most definitely not Zant's,) “a schedule of eating, sleeping, and fucking.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smolder

**Author's Note:**

> This took me more than 4 months to write - after a huge emotional hit in January, my writing quality dropped off and out of fear I'd never get back up to snuff, I stopped. 
> 
> So I want to thank my new friend yucee for inspiring me to keep at it and eventually finish this piece - I'm glad we could inspire each other to succeed.

“It looks like someone’s ready for another session,” Ghirahim said with a grin.

Skillful fingertips were traced over Zant’s leaking slit as Ghirahim's features twisted upwards; not that Zant was looking him in the eyes - he just knew. Zant's ears dipped at the positively _lewd_ noises his slickness made as Ghirahim rubbed a circle - agonizingly slowly, Zant would add - against his reddening sheath. Zant couldn't help but just stand there, knees wobbling, frozen as Ghirahim probed at him - his breath caught like a thorn in his throat as he felt his blood flow southward, dusting his face and body with blush on its way down. 

The third day of Zant’s winter heat had rolled around, and the pair had established some semblance of a rhythm - in Ghirahim’s words, (most definitely not Zant's,) “a schedule of eating, sleeping, and fucking.” Soft towels were laid across their shared bed to keep it clean; food stores were laid off to the side for easy refueling - if there was anything worse than Zant's carnal appetite during heat, it was his actual appetite. They had, despite Zant's protest, forgone clothing as - and Zant had to agree with this point - there was simply no point in dirtying outfit after outfit, but it was an idea that Ghirahim was obviously enjoying to the fullest; Zant had not an ounce of shared interest in such casual exhibitionism.

Much to Zant’s surprise, Ghirahim was taking to his heat rather swimmingly; he was always available and enthusiastic about assisting Zant with each... _bout_ \- but, of course, he wasn’t without his qualms on the matter. Most prevalent were his complaints regarding Zant’s choice of position; while being mounted like some sort of feral beast was initially exhilarating to him (and Zant couldn't possibly imagine how,) he grew bored of it very quickly. Additionally, and understandably so, Ghirahim was growing frustrated with his lack of allowed participation; that having his arms pinned to his own chest wasn't very "fun." It was all so exasperating; heat wasn't supposed to be "fun."

Zant had tried his hardest, fumbling over his own embarrassment, to explain that it all stemmed from his basic instincts; that everything he did, from the position, to the angle, to the multiple...deposits, was out of a deep-rooted need to procreate as efficiently as possible. Of course, Ghirahim countered with the facts; they were both what Zant's people would call [fertilizers] - incompatible for breeding. And what more, as a sword spirit, Ghirahim was completely sterile. The thing was - as Ghirahim put it - that plain and simple, they _weren’t_ going to procreate - so they should both get as much "enjoyment" out of the week as possible. Sometimes, Zant thought, this was going all over Ghirahim's head, as if he didn't know how hard these instincts could be to fight.

Didn't he know how embarrassing this was? The least he could do was refrain from trying to change it; to turn into some depraved game. Heat was a fact of life for Twili - if he didn't like the way things were, he could leave Zant to suffer alone as he had for the past near-decade. 

“On the bed,” Ghirahim whispered, tapping his fingers against Zant's shoulders; the action snapped Zant's attention back to the moment at hand. Ghirahim's breath was hot against the shell of Zant’s ear; it caused him to shudder. Zant quietly did as he was told, taking his place at the headboard with his legs spread. Ghirahim nimbly climbed on top of him, and pressed a knee very deliberately into Zant’s groin, prompting a choked whine from behind closed lips. Zant looked up at his [mate,] his eyes tracing Ghirahim’s toned musculature.

Shadows, Ghirahim was so strong. His own - frankly, squishy - body couldn't compare to Ghirahim's physique. Already an uncomfortable warmth was beginning to pool between his legs - this round was definitely starting. The leg between his thighs pressed just right as Ghirahim shifted slightly, almost massaging him from the outside. They had to start - but he was laying down - it wasn't right; was this what Ghirahim wanted? Already his thoughts were starting to cloud as he felt himself grow wetter. He sighed; they may as well start as they always had.  

“Kiss me," Zant breathed, nibbling at his bottom lip. His hips bucked shallowly against Ghirahim’s leg, smearing it with wetness - ugh. His thoughts of distaste were halted, though, when Ghirahim bent his head down to claim Zant’s lips. Their tongues circled briefly - Zant was still not good at this particular part, but any attempt at practice was thwarted when Ghirahim pulled away. Instead, Ghirahim pressed loud, wet kisses into the dark stretch of Zant’s neck, drawing shaky gasps with each one. Zant was already putty in Ghirahim's hands and they had barely started - every instinct in him screamed; he would never get to mount at this rate - not that he looked forward to such a thing. 

Ghirahim trailed further south, dragging his silken lips across Zant's skin; so soft; so pale. He stole a kiss at Zant's nipple, the sensation almost burning with how sensitive he was there. He continued over glowing, spiraling runes, brightening in response to his touch, before arriving at his prize. Ghirahim's eyes were hooded as he positioned himself before Zant’s slit, already glistening with fluid; bulging with his arousal. He breathed against it, which could only prompt Zant to whine; his eyes creased as his back arched uselessly against the featherbed.

Zant's gaze snapped downwards as Ghirahim flashed his tongue - damn that tongue - over the slit. He had the gall to look up into Zant’s eyes before plunging it beneath the folds of his sheath; Zant moaned openly as he greedily lapped at the abundance of fluids the slit secreted. The chemicals emitted from his body during heat were known to act as an aphrodisiac if... _ingested_ , and of course, it only powered Ghirahim through his work; Ghirahim's nostrils flared, his head tilting to stay flush with Zant's slit despite all of his writhing and bucking, which unfortunately, couldn't be helped - he was just so damned sensitive. Zant saw a flash of a hand, and figured Ghirahim was attending to himself, as well - obviously all this was riling him up.

Zant felt Ghirahim spread his slit with his free hand, revealing the opening at its base; there was a slight chill as such warm parts of him were exposed to the open air.

Oh no.

His eyes half-lidded, Ghirahim met Zant’s incredulous gaze again as he made a tight seal with his mouth and suckled him, moaning playfully as he teased the swollen tips of Zant’s concealed, still-hardening cocks with the very tip of his extremely long tongue. Zant keened, quickly biting his lip in a futile to keep himself quiet as his eyes rolled backwards. He tried to grab on to something - anything to ground him, to keep him from losing himself at such an act - the towels beneath them were snared in his fists, but they weren't enough to quell the sparks that ignited in the pit of Zant's stomach. Ghirahim hummed in response, burying his face into his sheath; he bobbed back and forth as he sucked to create friction where Zant thought it impossible - inside of his own passage. Zant’s voice wavered, his pitch undulating as his head pushed back against the pillows; he felt his hair starting to mat against his forehead, already soaked with sweat. Zant's chest heaved, his breath accelerating as his thighs trembled on either side of Ghirahim’s face. They had only just started and already he was going to-

He couldn't hold it; Zant's thin fingers found their way to Ghirahim's hair and clutched it as his hips jutted upwards against Ghirahim's mouth, visibly smearing his meticulously-applied white lipstick. With a yelp, Zant’s eyes screwed shut as his grip on Ghirahim's hair tightened; his limbs locked; his toes curled. It was a strange feeling, releasing from within his own slit, but Zant’s dual lengths soon slid from their sheath smoothly into Ghirahim’s mouth, along with the contents of his first orgasm, visibly dribbling from Ghirahim's lips. Zant's head swam with lust as he watched Ghirahim pull off from him, licking up and swallowing the few stray droplets that had escaped his mouth.

Shameful. To commit such a frivolous waste of-

...what was he thinking? Of course Zant's seed was going to be wasted. They had covered that already.

Maybe Ghirahim had a point; heat had a way of making Zant incredibly dense. He didn't get a chance to dwell on it further before Ghirahim met Zant’s lips again, catching his surprised (but always appreciative) moans in his mouth as his tongue teased Zant’s sensitive heat pits. With each sweep of his tongue; each poke and prod to the corners of his mouth, Ghirahim sent sparks and stars to Zant's brain, his body jerking and shuddering as each wave carried a sting that rode the border of pain and pleasure. It was almost addictive; it almost didn't matter that Zant could taste himself on Ghirahim's tongue.

Almost.

Zant panted hot and wet between them as Ghirahim broke their kiss, leaning to touch his forehead to Zant’s glowing brow. He could practically see his own breath with his heat sense; or maybe those splotches were left over from Ghirahim's kiss.

“Any requests?” Ghirahim murmured, smiling against Zant’s lips - his breath tickled; his silky smooth voice buzzed over Zant's heatpits. Ghirahim's hands swept across Zant’s chest - Zant felt himself arch into his touch; already he was desperate for any contact, the mere sparks from before now a warmth that spread through the whole of him. Zant swallowed, trying to collect himself so that he may speak, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his brow furrowed.

Requests? Surely Zant didn't have anything in particular; nothing specific. He felt a sharp twitch in his nethers; his twin cocks stood tall and proud, stretching his slit, swollen with his burning blood. Right now, he couldn't answer the question; right now, he just wanted Ghirahim to attend to him.

“T-touch them,” he stammered, biting back spittle - why did he have to constantly embarrass himself with this drool? Not to seem selfish, he reached a gangly arm between them to grope at Ghirahim’s arousal; he brought his hips upwards in short, stunted motions, rutting against Ghirahim's cock. At this point, Zant was so sensitive that he felt Ghirahim throb against him. Zant couldn't stop himself from reaching up with his free hand; he cupped Ghirahim's cheek, rubbing a circle into false flesh with his thumb.

“Touch me, my [sweet one,] _please.”_

Ghirahim pressed his lips to Zant’s again, in a kiss so searing that it rendered Zant briefly sightless; with a rather graceful dip of his hips, Ghirahim dragged his cock across Zant's hardening lengths. Zant could hardly suppress a whimper as he felt all three of their members being grasped, taken in one hand and pumped, slowly. He groaned as he felt how thick and heavy he was already in comparison to his [mate,] after practically any time at all; he mewled, the sound of his wetness against Ghirahim's hand halting any logical thought. Zant massaged his sore heat pits with his fingertips as his hips jolted in an attempt to cram himself through Ghirahim’s closed fist.

It wasn't enough - he knew that; he knew Ghirahim knew that. With what strength he could muster in his compromising position, Zant tried to find purchase against the mattress, his short legs and tiny feet scrabbling underneath Ghirahim. He failed, unable to push up against Ghirahim while pinned by his knee, and fell back down. Ghirahim chuckled low in his throat - almost roughly - and righted himself, pulling his own cock out of the equation, for which Zant was secretly thankful - if Ghirahim found his own release too early, Zant would be left alone with himself for shadows-know-how-long. A shuddering gasp leaked from Zant as Ghirahim slowly ran his grip from the base of his cocks, joined in his hand as one, to the tip. He watched Ghirahim's satisfied smile with fascination as Zant's natural lubricant collected and ran over his fingers; why did Ghirahim have to be so lewd?

Then he began to move. 

Every stroke; every motion pried more and more embarrassing noises from Zant’s throat, warmth bubbling in his belly as his legs wobbled. Ghirahim's grin spread wider as he twisted his fist across the sensitive tips, jerking his hand up and down rapidly, before quickly changing to long, languid strokes with a tightened grip across the entire length. Zant couldn't say which pace was more pleasurable; they both had their unparalleled benefits - but the variance was not helping his stamina. Just as he would get accustomed to one, he'd change to the other - Zant's breath quickened as he tried everything in his power to maintain his composure; to enjoy it just a while longer. His cocks were completely rigid at this point - usually, they were much more flexible; curling into Ghirahim's touch; flicking upwards in Ghirahim's mouth.

Oh shadows, his mouth. His tongue. He felt himself throb in Ghirahim’s palm at the thought, his eyes shutting briefly as if he'd have the coherency to picture such a thing. His hips bucked against the drag of Ghirahim's grip, and Ghirahim met him with a counter-rhythm, pumping even harder against Zant; he moaned - loud enough to wake the dead, he moaned. His voice dropped to its lowest register as he gripped Ghirahim's upper arms, his fingernails digging into that silvery flesh; his luminescent seed leaked from between Ghirahim's fingers as he continued to pull at his throbbing shafts. It stung as Ghirahim stroked him while he wound down, but the pain from over-stimulation only melted back into that familiar warmth. Already he craved it again - Ghirahim barely pulled his hand away and all Zant could do was whine, raising his hips to offer himself once more.

He was depraved; laughable; but he needed more. Such was the nature of heat.

“D-do not stop,” he said, breathless; he gritted his needling teeth but it did nothing to stop the saliva pouring from from his mouth, pooling on his heaving chest. He was hard again, swollen and needy. Ghirahim smiled at him - but instead of his usual wry grin, this smile was almost... gentle; understanding; facilitating. Ghirahim retreated, lowering his body so that his chest was between Zant's legs. Zant's breath hitched as he was hit with the realization of just what Ghirahim was about to do.

“I wouldn't dream of it," was all Zant heard before he felt a tight grasp to his hilt; Ghirahim guided Zant’s cocks to his mouth.

Zant’s voice fell from him as Ghirahim sank his head downwards; he felt the ring of Ghirahim's lips stretching around him as he took Zant - the whole of him - into his mouth. Zant inhaled sharply through his nose as Ghirahim began to bob his head; he started slowly so as to adjust to Zant's total girth before quickening his rhythm. With each swirl of his tongue, Zant exhaled, near sobbing as Ghirahim massaged Zant with the entirety of his mouth. Ghirahim pinned Zant’s hips down with his right arm; Zant’s reflexive jerking and bucking was proving to be a bit too disruptive. Zant truly did feel bad; he couldn't help himself, but the desire to ruck up into Ghirahim's throat plagued him without cease. Zant whimpered, running his hand through Ghirahim's hair in a feeble attempt to control himself; he threatened to bubble over after Ghirahim had barely begun. He felt that burn - the familiar twitch and pulse against the heat and wetness of Ghirahim's moving tongue as his lower body clenched in an attempt to hold himself back.

Ghirahim lowered his head once more, holding himself at the base; straining to take the entirety of the lengths before him. His cheeks caved inwards as the muscles of his throat clenched; he swallowed and sucked, creating even more noisy, disgusting, delicious stimulation; it was enough to throw Zant over the edge - his chest lifted off the mattress, his body curling forwards as Zant nearly screamed. He fisted Ghirahim's hair; his thighs squeezed the sides of Ghirahim's head with so much force that if Zant didn't know any better, he'd swear it'd pop right off. Ghirahim's fingers squeezed at Zant's legs as streams of hot liquid pulsed from his cocks, coating Ghirahim’s throat; it leaked from his mouth as he retracted his head to suckle the tips, drawing out every last drop. Zant shook violently, his voice trembling; skipping across every octave.

He fell back against the featherbed, muscles twitching as Ghirahim softly touched his lips to the tip of one of Zant’s dicks. He felt Ghirahim's weight shift again as he moved back up to face him, peppering his lips and cheeks with soft, gentle kisses; a welcome interlude.

“[I love you,]” Zant sighed, between kisses.

“And I, you,” answered Ghirahim, pressing white lips to his forehead. Zant felt Ghirahim's skin slide over his from the disgusting sheen of sweat that coated his own body. He doubted he'd have the strength after things were finished, but he couldn't wait until his next bath. 

His next bath with Ghirahim; his next bath with Ghirahim behind him, his cock rubbing against the small of his back; his-

"How are you holding up?" Ghirahim murmured after kissing Zant's neck; back to reality. "I didn't know you had that last one in you." 

His last what? He-

Oh. Of course - it happened less that five minutes ago and he had already forgotten about it. He was already thinking about his next release; and in the bathtub of all places. Was nothing sacred? Zant felt his face grow uncomfortably warm as he tried to form a reply.

"I'm...fine," Zant said - he rose to kiss the bridge of Ghirahim's nose, as if that would help reassure him. 

"Really?" Ghirahim quipped - he sat up, balancing on his knees. Zant swallowed as the curve of Ghirahim's rear brushed against his cocks; by some miracle, he suppressed the urge to buck his hips. "Because I can feel you back here. You're nowhere near done-"

Ghirahim's voice lowered to a level reserved for idle threats.

"-are you?"

He was teasing him! Zant attempted a glare, but his eyes couldn't help but wander downward, to Ghirahim's dick, still erect after all this time  - after all of this pandering to his own needs; he couldn't help but stare at it, how it lifted and pulsed against Ghirahim's stomach. He screwed his eyes shut to clear his mind, and flung himself upwards to meet Ghirahim before dragging him back down on top of him, just so he didn't have to look at it anymore. He heard Ghirahim purr before claiming his lips in a kiss, his tongue invading Zant's mouth yet again, this time with a fervor spurred by Zant's initiative - Ghirahim did always appreciate when Zant took initiative. Zant offered his own tongue, rubbing curiously against Ghirahim's between their joined mouths. 

All this did was flood Zant's mind with more obscene images; of Ghirahim frotting against his dicks; of him making himself slick, thrusting between his cocks. The ghost sensation of a fantasy Ghirahim teasing him with a wet cock made his toes curl; it made him throb; it made him _burn_. He wanted it - oh how he wanted Ghirahim to-

Ghirahim broke away again. 

"Your heat is only what you make of it," he said, rubbing a circle around Zant's left nipple with a single finger; it was hard beneath his touch. Ghirahim leaned back in, so close they were almost kissing, but not quite; his breath danced across Zant's lips.

"So tell me how I can best please you."

Please him? Heat wasn't about pleasing anyone, Zant thought. 

But it wasn't about reproducing, either. At least, not anymore - not with Ghirahim. So it made sense, then, that Ghirahim would ask him what he wanted - how to best help him ride through the hormones; the lust; the frustration. 

But, what _did_ he want?

Something in Zant snapped - leading with his tongue, he kissed Ghirahim harder than he ever had; he ran his fingers through Ghirahim's hair and curled them; he tilted his face to press as far against Ghirahim as possible. He felt and heard Ghirahim's chuckle as he reciprocated the gesture, occasionally allowing Zant to pull away with a wet pop for much-needed oxygen. Feeling light-headed, Zant broke the kiss and held Ghirahim close while he caught his breath, panting in Ghirahim's ear. He felt Ghirahim's arms wrapping around him; he felt Ghirahim's fingers in his own hair, almost petting him.

What did he _want_?

He felt Ghirahim's dick, hard against his leg.  _What did he want?_

Zant swallowed, the burn flooding his body again; the filthy thoughts pervading him. He whispered into Ghirahim's ear, wetly; deeply:

 _“Fuck_ me.”

His uncharacteristic use of such colorful language was enough to surprise even Ghirahim - he lifted his head to eye Zant quizzically; the expression on his face would have been comical if Zant wasn't so incredibly embarrassed. Why did he have to use that word? He hated that word!

"...are you _sure?_ "

Was he? Given how he couldn't stop fantasizing about Ghirahim's dick, he most definitely was. But it was natural for Ghirahim to worry; Zant was very rarely... on the _receiving_ end of this sort of thing, due to Ghirahim's own personal preference - and perhaps some apprehension on Zant's end. But right now.... right now Zant didn't care; right now he wanted Ghirahim inside of him; right now, he wanted this forsaken heat driven from his body. He craned his neck forwards to firmly kiss Ghirahim's lips. He tried to spread his legs from underneath Ghirahim’s body; it didn't really work, but he hoped Ghirahim got the hint.

"[Yes,] I..." he paused, but only to swallow. "I _want_ you." A phrase Ghirahim didn't know in Twili - not yet; maybe it would have been wiser if he had used his native tongue. Zant’s face - and by extension, his body - was totally flushed, his gaze down-turned in embarrassment; he probably sounded so depraved, so...dirty. He was reluctant to look Ghirahim in the eye, but when he did, Ghirahim's expression was one of understanding.

Thank the shadows; he wasn't going to tease about this.

He cupped Ghirahim's face in his hands and brought him down, back into a bruising kiss. He felt Ghirahim smile against him, his tongue tracing along Zant's bottom lip; it swirled over one of Zant's heat pits before briefly battling with Zant's own tongue. It was all too quick, however, as Ghirahim righted himself in order to prepare Zant, trailing his fingertips across the softness of Zant’s chest and stomach. Such light touches burned and scratched at Zant's skin; he arched himself upwards for more attention, for more pressure to soothe his sensitive body. Luckily, Ghirahim obliged, rubbing his fingers deeply into Zant's muscles, almost like a massage - it was almost enough to make Zant purr, if he weren't in such a situation.

Zant's hips jutted upwards with a slight moan as Ghirahim dipped his fingers into his slit, rubbing between his twin lengths; even the flushed skin surrounding it was incredibly sensitive. Still, he had to coat himself in Zant’s natural slickness, or else this would be a lot more difficult - and painful; he trailed lower - down beneath his sheath - and began to massage Zant’s entrance, entering with a single digit. Already the invading finger stoked the flame within him; Zant whined, spreading his legs further. He didn't know if he could wait for Ghirahim to prepare him fully.

“Do you have to waste time with that?” he said, his gaze turned towards the ceiling; he couldn't believe what he was saying. “Just.. you know - do it; impale me if you have to.”

Ghirahim laughed; he practically cackled.

“ _Impale_ you? You flatter me,” he cooed, taking in Zant's cheek his free hand. “But, my love-" Zant felt himself quake at that. "-unless you want to feel pain like you've never imagined, you'd best be patient." He pressed a wet kiss to Zant's chest, earning a shaky gasp. "Now, darling - _relax._ ” He punctuated his chiding with a curl of his finger, pressing into Zant’s sweet spot - Zant’s voice climbed as he ground against Ghirahim's hand, seeing stars from behind his eyes.

In a short time, he added a second finger, and, eventually, a third, constantly - thankfully - checking in with Zant, until he felt he was suitably prepared; Zant felt himself losing control, crooning more and more loudly with each passing second of Ghirahim's scissoring and stretching; Ghirahim grinned impishly at the noise, and rewarded his mate’s patience and enthusiasm with the occasional brush of Zant’s sensitivity. At long last, he removed his fingers, unable to resist bending forward to taste Zant’s moans for himself.

“[Please,]” Zant squeaked between them - his voice was weak as he did all he could to wait patiently for his [mate;] his breath shook as Ghirahim kissed him with renewed fervor, his fingers running through Zant's hair. Zant raised his arms and draped them over Ghirahim’s shoulders; he whimpered and lifted his hips again as Ghirahim thrust his cock between his own dicks, reveling in the glorious contact. Once Ghirahim was sufficiently lubricated, he sat up, dragging his fingers down Zant’s pale body as he went, taking time to trace each rune and watch it glow. Ghirahim positioned himself at Zant’s entrance and pressed forward slowly - carefully - slipping smoothly past the ring of muscle. Zant hadn't realized it, but he was holding his breath; the two sighed in unison when joined.

After taking a few moments for Zant to fully adjust to his intrusion, Ghirahim loomed over him again, hooking Zant’s knees over his elbows; caging Zant's head between his arms, he cupped the stark slopes of Zant’s burning face delicately in his hands. Zant gently laced his arms around Ghirahim’s neck - he dragged his spindly fingers through Ghirahim’s curtain of hair and set it over his wounded ear, exposing the diamond brand on Ghirahim's left cheek. Their lips brushed in what must have been their softest kiss to date, scarcely touching as Ghirahim began to move; he pulled back only slightly before sinking the whole of him into Zant, his face tilting and pushing forward to swallow Zant's wanton moan. 

His initial pace was slow - not in order to tease Zant, but because Ghirahim knew they needed to move at a gentler pace; his hips undulated in smooth, rippling waves as he pushed into Zant, their joined bodies rocking against the featherbed. With each pass of Ghirahim's cock, Zant's voice climbed and fell, still blocked by Ghirahim's mouth and tongue. With his left hand devoted to curling its fingers in Zant's hair, Ghirahim wedged his right hand between them, in the scarce space beneath their brushing chests, gripping Zant's unattended cocks, already throbbing despite a complete absence of stimulation. Zant shuddered as he inhaled sharply through his nose, his attempts to roll his hips into Ghirahim's touch thwarted by his current position. The old burn, the tendrils of pleasure spread through Zant's abdomen in response to Ghirahim's touch; he arched, creating a friction between their chests that sent a twitch through to Ghirahim's member. Ghirahim hummed in reassurance as his hand began to shift over Zant's dicks, the already lewd cacophony of their joined moans and the rocking of the bed accompanied by the wet sounds of Zant's fluids.

Zant's head rolled back, breaking their kiss, his mouth agape as his mind was completely occupied with the sensations at play; Ghirahim sheathing himself within him; his ministrations across his dicks, thick once more with seed; with his legs in Ghirahim's arms he had no choice but to allow Ghirahim to play him as if he were an instrument - and he wouldn't have it any other way. Such a passive role in the act of copulation was unheard of among his people - and at this point in time, he couldn't care less. He couldn't care less as Ghirahim's motions were smooth as silk inside of him; as yet another release was stroked from him both inside and out.

Zant's voice, while as euphoric as with each climax before, was hoarse; his toes curled as he felt himself empty, dribbling now, over Ghirahim's hand - and yet, as he heard Ghirahim groan in time with his own clenching muscles, he hungered for more.

He _needed_ more.

Zant felt the sweat collecting at the small of his back - his arms wobbled with fatigue, and he still wanted nothing more than for Ghirahim to continue; to milk him; to rut into him so hard and deep that he'd tear in two. Already the pain of his most recent release was ebbing, melting into twisted, stinging pleasure - his eyes pricked with tears, both of overstimulation and of gratitude as his [sweet one] - his precious [sweet one] - continued to tug at him; continued to thrust inside of him; continued to shower him with more, more, _more_. He only just noticed the slight ache of the marks Ghirahim was leaving on his neck and shoulder, staining his porcelain skin dark as he bruised; only now, he heard Ghirahim's voice low, grunting in his ear in a tone that was positively feral; it all paled in comparison to the fire that burned in Zant's belly, the yearning to come undone again and again.

 _This_ was heat; this was _his_ heat.

Zant panted into the open, too caught up in it all to move more than his mouth - abruptly, Ghirahim's pace increased, wrenching a shaky gasp from Zant's lungs. He felt Ghirahim's muscles flex against his thighs as their proximity drew even closer; the two continued to rock and move as a unit, but now there was a ferocity - a fire - behind Ghirahim's movements. Incredulous, Zant wondered if he had been speaking aloud without realizing, asking Ghirahim to quicken his thrusting; or perhaps Ghirahim was just that in tune with Zant's mannerisms; with his heat. And after so little time. If he could process such a thing right now, he would be proud.

Ghirahim's head lifted from its home at the crook of Zant's neck, dark chocolate eyes meeting Zant's listless gaze; Ghirahim's usually dexterous tongue wriggled uselessly between them as he continued to thrust. Zant found it hard to focus, to look him directly in the eye, as Ghirahim squeezed his cocks again, the constant, driving force of Ghirahim's dick pushing and pulling from him stoking the wild flame that ran hot beneath Zant's skin. Vanquished by a mere look, Zant creaked as he bubbled over again, tightening around Ghirahim as he persisted; only a few thick drops of his seed dripped from him now, his dicks stinging and burning from their strain. Zant's arms weakly fell from Ghirahim's shoulders, his body bouncing lazily against the featherbed as Ghirahim continued to bury himself deeper and deeper.

His jaw went slack as his lips curled upwards into a slight smile - this is what he wanted, _this_ was-

"-Zant."

He was calling to him? How long had he been doing that? Zant peered up into Ghirahim's eyes - his face was flushed; his hair - usually pristine, even in the throes of intimacy - disheveled. His breathing was ragged, his pace slowing to a near-stop. All Zant could muster was a groan - words were beyond him, and the pool of saliva in his mouth would have interfered anyway.

"I'm sorry if I'm not keeping up with your stamina - forgive my indiscretion but...." Ghirahim looked away briefly, almost as if he was embarrassed. Ghirahim, embarrassed? About... well, _intercourse?_ Zant couldn't fathom it. 

Right now, Zant couldn't really fathom anything.

"...I _need_ to cum, Zant; I'm at my limit."

Oh.

Zant felt his ears dip at the word, but still, it riled him; he swallowed dryly as the dark swirl and burn plagued him yet again - his dicks pulsing, throbbing at the sound of Ghirahim's voice. His own body was spent, much like Ghirahim's - he might have had just one last release in him. As Ghirahim eyed him, his expression pleading, Zant couldn't help but feel that his ancestors; his elders; his superiors would be ashamed - first a glance causes him to lose himself, and now... a single word. A dirty, dirty word; to think, had he not met his [mate,] he'd not even know the definition of... 

He swallowed - he always had to swallow; thrice-damn these enlarged heat pits. Zant panted, trying to control his breathing; trying to stave off his next release - he was so, agonizingly close... 

"Y-you may..." was all he could muster. Zant lifted his arm, his hand resting against Ghirahim's cheek; his thumb traced a circle against cool, silvery skin. At any other time, Zant would have found it soothing; he licked his lips and spoke once more:

"...I am ready, too; ready to... finish." 

He should have felt embarrassed, speaking so casually about something so... depraved, but Ghirahim made things different. He always made things different. Zant sighed as Ghirahim dipped his neck to kiss him, bringing his hands upwards to run through the soft haven of Ghirahim's hair. Ghirahim moaned appreciatively as he traced each of Zant's pointed teeth with the tip of his tongue. The slight lull in the motion of Ghirahim's hips was gone, his original rhythm rejuvenated; the slight slap of Ghirahim's false flesh against Zant's rear pricked slightly at Zant's sensitive ears - although as to how he could hear such a faint noise over the slew of overwhelming stimuli, Zant couldn't spare a guess.

As he felt Ghirahim throb within him, the fire returned, spreading from the pit of Zant's stomach to every extremity - his toes tingled and curled; his fingers gripped at the roots of Ghirahim's hair, although careful not to cause him harm; he felt his cocks twitch in Ghirahim's grip, almost in a counter-rhythm to his pumping. He sought comfort in his [mate's] touch, his chest rising with as much strength as he could gather, just to brush against the coolness of Ghirahim's body. It always amazed him, how refreshing Ghirahim's skin could be, but especially now, when Zant burned so intensely, he couldn't help but wonder just how it worked; metal conducted heat, and yet Ghirahim, a sword spirit, was always cool - always. It must have been magic - and Ghirahim definitely had no shortage of that.

Ghirahim grunted, hoarse and low, his tongue ravenously circling Zant's own, rubbing and swirling as Zant struggled to keep up; heat was exhausting - it always was, for as long as Zant had been [mature.] Even if Zant's "stamina" was temporarily increased, it wasn't worth an entire week filled with this incessant need to fornicate - to _breed;_ it wasn't worth grappling with the desire to breed  _Ghirahim_ at every passing moment, in every room of their home; to defile his cherished [mate] in such a way, and to such a point of futility - if only his body knew that of which his mind was fully aware.

Heat could be so pointless.

As Ghirahim stimulated him further - his own release very obviously nearing, judging by the frequent abandonment of any established rhythm - tears stung Zant's eyes; tears of shame; of frustration; tears that Ghirahim kissed away, lips soft as satin, as he sighed into Zant's skin. 

Ghirahim - he didn't care about the futility of Zant's cycle. He didn't care about the waste of time this all was; despite the strain on both of them, a moment with his [mate] was never wasted, Zant realized. Ghirahim was his; and Zant was Ghirahim's. He was Ghirahim's to assist; to care for; to cherish. 

To love.

Using the grip he had on his hair, Zant angled Ghirahim's face and brought it down to meet his own - partly to hide his tears, but almost entirely because he loved Ghirahim so, so much. He heard Ghirahim make a noise, a mix of a gasp and a sigh, before he moved his lips in tandem with Zant's; gentle, soft - a stark contrast to the particular activity at hand. Ghirahim adjusted himself, backing away so he could drive his hips upward, shallowly, directly into Zant's sweet spot; with the space between them, Zant had the freedom to vocalize. He gasped, his breath stolen from his lungs as Ghirahim tirelessly stimulated him from within. Zant's head rolled back as he moaned with each breath, the spiral of pleasure tightening in his gut; his eyes crossed as Ghirahim's voice joined his, squinting as his [mate's] forehead touched his own, their gasps and pants mixing between them. 

Then he felt it.

Ghirahim's grip on Zant's hair tightened as he groaned, deep and guttural; a violent shudder traveled from Ghirahim through to Zant as he saw Ghirahim's eyes roll backwards. Zant felt a warmth even stronger than those before it spread through him as he was filled with Ghirahim's own fluids - somehow hot when Ghirahim himself was so cool to the touch - the throb and pulse of Ghirahim's release coupled with his continued thrusting coaxing the spiraling, tightening, burning sensations to the forefront. Ghirahim continued to moan in Zant's ear, strangled, as he rode out his orgasm, his hand erratically twisting over Zant's cocks. He just needed a little more; another stroke of his dicks; another thrust in and out of him, and-

" _Ghirahim-!_ "

Zant's body seized, his back arching at an angle obscene to any Hylian; his voice strained, his lungs unable to refill. He clenched around Ghirahim - he heard a moan in response - his dicks surging with such a mix of pain and pleasure that it could only bring tears to Zant's eyes. Not a drop spilled from the tips of Zant's cocks, but this release was just as intense as any other, if not more so.

After a few final, stuttering thrusts into Zant, Ghirahim's arms buckled - he collapsed atop Zant, who gasped as Ghirahim's dick popped out from inside him. As the two caught their breath, Ghirahim kissed at Zant's shoulder, and then to Zant's lips - although Zant could offer little more than a small hum in the way of participation. Ghirahim slid downwards, much like he had earlier that night, but Zant knew he had no ill intent - if Zant's cocks finally softening and slowly retreating to their sheath was any indication, they were done for a good while.

Zant laid there, his bones much like those "jelly" desserts that had popped up in the mess hall every so often. He twitched slightly as he felt Ghirahim's tongue on him; normally, he'd be disgusted at the prospect of Ghirahim cleaning him of his... well, he was just too tired now. Much too tired. He furrowed his brow as he felt Ghirahim lay to his side, smooth, cool skin pressed to him once more; refreshing; soothing.

Thank the shadows for this demon.

If he'd the strength, Zant would have rolled to his side. He'd have embraced his [sweet one;] kissed him; thanked him. Apologized, even - he knew Ghirahim understood, but he still felt the need to ask forgiveness for his behavior; it was true that having a partner for heat made it more bearable, but Zant was sure that Ghirahim didn't understand just how much he was truly helping him. Of course, he assisted with the obvious aspect of copulation, but Ghirahim also made him feel... 

....normal.

He wouldn't go so far as to call it "enjoyable," but this heat was definitely one of the easier ones. How strange it was, to live freely during one's cycle, to be able to refrain from shutting one's self in one's chambers for a week; a temporary vow of solitude. Sure, every [mature] Twili did this, but while every unmatched Twili took care of their self - and it was therefore "normal" - he could remember all too well the feelings of shame when his superiors saw him head to his chambers to wait out the heat. He wondered if they snickered; laughed; discussed just what he was doing to sate his intense carnal appetite. For something "normal," he sure felt filthy. 

What he did, in fact, do... smears of memories painted the recesses of him memory, of a younger Zant on his back; his lower body propped upwards against his headboard; his knees on either side of his face.... perhaps this was something Ghirahim shouldn't know about. No, definitely not; he'd never hear the end of it.

Things seemed so different now.

His senses were a bit deadened, but he still felt the brush of Ghirahim's mop of hair on his chest; the weight of his [mate,] his [sweet one,] as he laid his head against Zant's collarbone. Zant's arm found its ways around Ghirahim's waist, pulling the much-needed coolness of his body closer. A soft exhale from Ghirahim tickled his skin as they settled, and Zant's throat thrummed with a weak purr - and his stomach with a growl. A stray thought of food floated through his mind; of Cucco eggs cooking, sizzling in his new... "frying pan," was it called... but he snuffed it out. His heat had always made him quite hungry - a breeding machine had to refuel - but Zant was willing to put up with it for now, so long as he had his [sweet one;] his lovely, confident, understanding, passionate....

As long as he had Ghirahim, Zant could put up with anything.


End file.
